


holidays, holidaze

by cinnabun



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gyftmas, Holidays, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabun/pseuds/cinnabun
Summary: It’s beginning to look a lot like Gyftmas. What starts off as a perfectly calm day quickly takes a turn for the worse. Then the better. Then the sillier. Well, it is the holidays, after all.(5K One-Shot Commission - Asgore/Reader, a Gyftmas/Holiday-based commission piece)





	holidays, holidaze

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the commissioner that this is for! This is single-handedly the longest UT one-shot piece I've written so far, and it was an absolute blast. I hope you enjoyed it, sweetheart!

* * *

 ❤ ❤ ❤

* * *

 You heard him before you saw him.

The sound of cloven hooves slowly making their way up the steps to your porch, carefully and quietly. All it took was a quick lean out of your chair to make out his figure. You were sure if your nieces and nephews were here they’d all be screaming about how “Krampus had come for them!!” It’s not like you could really blame them either, he did look like Krampus, all hunched over like that.

A bright red, oversized hood hung over his head, with only his long, curled horns pointing out at the top. You could see him kicking the snow off his hooves onto the doormat, a long, almost dragon-like tail whipping back and forth behind him. And the bag slung over his shoulder looked so full of angular objects that you couldn’t help but get a flashback to the scene where the grandmother opened Krampus’s bag to reveal all the evil little toys waiting to jump on her.

But you knew there was no danger here for you. Didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with him, though.

You stood, moving to prepare a second mug of hot chocolate, just as the knock came at your door.

“Ho-ho-ho!” Came a deep, jolly voice from the other side. “It is I! Santa Claus, here to deliver your Gyftmas presents!”

You gasped in mock surprise, leaning towards the window to make sure he could hear you talking to him though the window pane. “Santa! But you’re a whole week early!”

“Well, I have a very special present to give you!” He retorted with a chuckle. There was a beat of silence as you stirred the cocoa powder into his mug and set it into the microwave to warm. “Also, it is very cold out here. May I come in?”

“The door’s unlocked, honey.” You called back, readying the cinnamon shaker. “Do you want cream on your cocoa, or just cinnamon?”

There was another moment of silence, then the sound of shifting, before you heard the lock click as he finally worked it open with a soft “Ah.” Heavy footsteps made their way inside, and you heard the weight of the bag drop next to the door as he let out a deep, aching sigh. “Both please.”

Carefully extracting the steaming mug from its spot in the microwave onto the counter, you readied the spray-can of whipped cream, about to spray a less-than-healthy amount (as you knew he liked it), just as you felt an _extremely_ cold pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“Whoa!” You jumped. “You’re freezing. Go change into something warmer, I’ll dump your Santa suit in the dryer for you.”

An even colder nose bumped against your cheek as he playfully tormented you by brushing his frost-bitten beard against your neck. “Alright, darling. I’ll be back then.”

Before you could react, he grasped the cup and took a long swig. “Mm, just what the chilly weather called for.”

You giggled and pushed him towards the doorway of the kitchen. “Let me make it fancier for you, Santa Cold-Claws! Go warm up.”

“Alright, alright!” He laughed, relenting his grip on the cup back to your waiting hands. The coldness of his fur had chilled it considerably, and you sighed, adding a bit more milk and popping it back into the microwave for a few more seconds to re-heat it. You could hear him shuffling about in the other room as you created what was essentially a twin to your own drink, covered in whipped-cream, them drizzled with chocolate, and with a final touch of ground cinnamon. Perfect.

You grabbed the cup and made your way down the hallway, carefully making sure to step over the somewhat spilled gifts that had tumbled out of the overpacked bag. How he could carry that around all day, you had no idea. It looked heavier than anything you could ever even dream of lifting.

So preoccupied on the physics of just how strong your boyfriend was, you nearly ran into him when he opened the door to your bedroom, his suit, dripping with sleet, slung over one arm, a neatly wrapped present tucked under the other.

“Aw, is that for me?” You teased, nodding the cup in your hands towards the giftbox. He nodded gently, giving you a grin that made your cheeks warm. “Let’s trade, then.”

Taking the box in your hands, you swapped it with the freezing (& surprisingly heavy) Santa Suit, leaving him looking somewhat surprised when you hadn’t immediately grasped for the box as well. Instead, you made a beeline for the drier, dumping the cold, wet suit into the machine & turning the heat up as far as you could. Only when the gentle rumble of the heat working its magic began did you move to return to his side in the kitchen, snuggling against his, now much warmer and softer, sweater as he sipped at his drink.

You couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship that went into the piece he wore. “Is that the sweater your fam—the one you got before?”

His eyes sparkled with pride as he turned to show it off to you. An olive green, with brown trim at the neck and wrist parts. “Asriel made this side,” he remarked, waggling the somewhat oversized, messily sleeve in your direction. Then he switched to the other side, which was made with much more delicate care, and fit him perfectly. All the stitch work was precise and professional looking. “Chara made this part.”

A bit nervously, he tugged at the neck, running his claws over the embroidered letters across the chest. “Tori—” He swallowed, and took another sip of his drink. “Ms. Hoepful made the base. The children just made the sleeves, but they insisted on the message here.”

It read “King Dad Guy.” You nodded understandably, trying to ignore the little pang of jealousy that arched through your stomach at the idea of his previous family. It was obvious he still loved them. And of course, you didn’t blame him for that, but you couldn’t help but be a little envious of that bond. You’d never be able to replace them, but you could, for the time being, be who he needed most. At least, that’s what he always assured you of.

They were what he wanted. Once upon a time, a very long time ago.

You were what he needed. Here, now, and forever more. Now the words echoed in your mind, and desperate to resolve the awkward tension you’d unwittingly created, you joked, “I should get a matching one. Yeah! Maybe one with “If Lost, Please Return to King Dad Guy” on the front!”

He chuckled again, reaching over to ruffle your hair affectionately. “I think I would much prefer “Santa Claus’s Little Helper.”” Taking another long sip of his drink, you could see the cream beginning to get stuck in his beard. “After all, you are the light of my life. And the best helper a Santa King could ask for.”

The shock of his sweet words sent a rush of warmth through you, blooming right from the middle of your chest. You couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread across your face, as you snuggled into his arm and leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. He blushed in return, quickly clearing his throat to once again offer you the mysterious gift. “This is for you, truly. You may open it now if you wish, or if you’d rather wait until Gyftmas…I would also understand.”

“Are you kidding?” You chirped. “Gimme!”

He snickered as you scurried to the table where your own drink sat, waiting for you to finish it off. Your fingers hovered over the bow, before moving to grasp your mug. You swallowed the last of the burning liquid, hoping to steel your nerves, and merely burning your tongue in the process. Oh, bad idea. Too late to turn back now. Present in sight. Gotta open it!

Your hands wiggled back and forth, trying to find the best angle to undo the pretty little bow at the top. Asgore took a seat next to you and smiled gently. “Just lift the top of the box off, darling.”

Oh. Yeah, you know that. You snorted, waving him away with fake bravado. “I was just testing you.”

“Of course you were.” He nodded solemnly, unable to stop the playful smile on his face from giving away the truth.

Nervously, you grasped the box of the top, and bit into your lip. What could be inside? Socks? Maybe more exotic teas, Asgore loved to collect those. Maybe a decorative teacup? Gloves? A hat? A scarf? Now your mind was racing with ideas, and you hadn’t realized you’d frozen in place until you heard Asgore calling your name. Asking if you were okay, once again.

“Yeah, just!” You squeaked, “Adding suspense!”

And then you ripped away the top, revealing—a necklace. It was bright golden from the chain down, though the charm at the bottom. Was gorgeous. Incredible.

You lifted it for a closer look, running your fingers across the details delicately. It was a heart—not just any heart, but a gem of sorts, cut directly into the shape of your SOUL. Sharing the same shade and all. When you tilted it, it gleamed iridescent, despite the tinted outside. It felt warm, too, almost pulsating from some sort of Magic. And that wasn’t even the best part.

The best part was the Royal crest adorning the top. Connecting the charm to the chain was a pattern that dipped down to coat the front of the gem in a bright gold and silver insignia. So much like what he wore across his chest everyday that anyone who saw it would know who you’d gotten it from immediately. Pride swelled in your chest as tears welled in your eyes.

Asgore seemed to take this as distaste, because he quickly moved to rub your shoulders, his voice trembling as he assured you that if you didn’t like it, he could trade it in for something more pleasant. For something less fancy. For anything you wanted.

You shook you head, and turned to beam at him, through the tears rolling down your face. “I love it! I love you. I love it and I love you. So much.”

The look of utter shock on his face melted at your words, and he gave you a kind smile. His hands trembled as he reached out to brush the tears from your cheeks, his own voice warbling a bit. “I—”

“ _I—”_ He tried again. It was like watching someone choke on their own words, which he probably was. You knew he had difficultly saying it sometimes, so you just leaned patiently into his paws, letting him pull you gently into a soft kiss on the forehead. It might not have been said directly, but the intent was still there. He loved you, too.

The moment felt like something out of a cheesy Hallmark movie, even more-so when he turned to stare out the frosted window, eyes clouded with a sort of awed nostalgia.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the snow… _fall_.”

“How long?” You asked softly, intertwining your fingers with his when he moved to take another sip of his drink. It had probably been centuries after all, the Underground was—well, from what you’d heard from Asgore, as well as what you’d seen on the news, it was an interesting place.

“Too long,” He whispered. “And yet I can remember the last time I saw snowfall here on the Surface just like it was yesterday. Perhaps that is the perk of having a memory like mine.”

 _Or a curse._ The words weren’t spoken, but you felt them hanging there. You squeezed his paw gently, tracing your fingers affectionately over the soft pink paw pads under your palm. “Can you tell me about it?”

Asgore laughed gently, shaking his head. “Oh, it was so very long ago, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear such a boring tale like that.”

“I do.” You propped your head on your hand, giving him a warm smile that must have convinced him of your authenticity. The bridge of his muzzle flushed a soft pink. “I’d love to hear it.”

“Then how can I say no to a face like that?” He chuckled.

“I was just a youth, to give you some clarification. That’s how far back this was, when Monsters and Humans were still living together in harmony. The wars had not yet started, and the winters were often calm and festive.” His eyes glazed painfully, but softened when you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“It was just another day when the snow fell, light flakes that stuck to the ground in clumps. Before I knew it, there was enough to make sculptures, which many of the children were doing. I, of course, had lessons to attend, so I was unable to join in the festivities for the longest time. But around the evening time, I managed to convince my guardians to allow me time outside, just for a little bit.”

He laughed again. “I was a sickly little thing, I’ll have you know. I bet you’d never have expected that, would you?”

Given how big he was now, towering over you, even as you sat across from each other, you hadn’t. The idea of Asgore as a sickly, frail youth was an incredibly difficult thing to imagine. Still, you nodded along to his words, as if understanding.

His fingers tightened on the mug, and he took another, smaller sip. His expression was caught somewhere between melancholy and nostalgia. It made your stomach turn, but you couldn’t figure out why until he continued speaking. “I found a human child outside that day, passed out in the snow just at the edge of the forest of our town. They couldn’t have been more than my age, if not a bit younger. I had my guardians bring them home.”

He blinked, staring down into the cocoa as if searching for something. “Amnesia, they said they had. They’d fallen while running from something in the hills, hit their head on the rocks below. But it must have been the Determination in their SOUL that kept them move, kept them alive.”

As if he could see the question in your eyes, he smiled, though this time, it was so much sadder than before. “Their name was Des. Our family adopted them, took them in as our own. Eventually, we became the best of friends. After all, they had no home that they could remember, and their face was foreign to those in the village. They were like my sibling, almost. It was they who helped me be stronger. Taught me to stand up for myself. Helped me become…,” he patted his chest lightly, clutching the place where you knew his SOUL bobbed within him, “a King, I suppose you could say.”

This story sounded very familiar, and you remembered him describing something similar when they’d discovered the first fallen human, their child, Chara. It was almost uncanny, and you felt sick when you noticed tears beginning to edge in his eyes.

“We loved one another so much. We swore that we would always protect each other. They’re the one two introduced me to Toriel, after all. Helped us…get along, so to speak. It was an arranged marriage after all, so, we were rather…shy around each other at the beginning.”

Something had happened. Something bad. You were so scared to ask, but as it turned out, you didn’t have to. Asgore closed his eyes, looking tired, freshly betrayed, and anciently wise all at once.

“They were eventually elected onto the Council of Human Mages because of the strength of their Determination. We were all so proud of them. And then, once I took the crown, I took them on as my royal advisor, my second-in-command. We were partners. We were family.” He sighed, a tremble coursing over his shoulders.

“They were also the one who first suggested to humanity that they lock us away under Mt. Ebott.”

The pit in your stomach dropped. Ice rushed in your veins, cancelling out the warmth of the cocoa you were currently drinking. You gripped your cup hard, feeling your teeth grit and grind. No wonder why he seemed to have so much trouble talking about his past. Talking about those with Determined SOULs in general.

Frisk. Chara. Des.

He’d battled with all of them, in one way or another, hadn’t he? Betrayed by his best friend—his family. Lost his children in vain. Nearly took the life of another, all for a goal he’d never wanted to finish in the first place. He was so hurt, so damaged. And when you finally looked up, you realized he was crying.

They were tiny, thin lines running down his face, but all the signs were there. The redness at the edge of his eyes, the way he was gnawing at his bottom lip, the shaking of his frame. His sudden inability to speak. He was so close to breaking, and all you could do—all you could think to do—was launch yourself from your seat, and into his arms.

Your arms enveloped him as best they could. You grasped at the back of his sweater, letting his weight press you into a ball in his lap as he began to sob, openly now. You’d never seen him cry before, let alone hear it. It was heart-breaking, and before you knew it, you were crying too. Both of you sobbed over this thing that had happened centuries ago, something you’d never even been a part of. Something you’d never know first-hand. But something that still hurt you to hear. To hear of _him_ hurting.

You let him grieve, holding you tight to his chest as you lent out your empathy. You didn’t know what to do to comfort him, so you did all you could. You stroked his shoulders, whispering softly into his ear. Offering apologies, assuring him of your affection, reminding him that it was all in the past. That this was now. That he still had a chance to live, and would continue to have that chance as long as he wanted it.

He held you tighter, his body-wracking sobs softening until he simply trembled.

“I do not deserve you.” You felt him whisper in your ear, whiskers bristling against your cheek as he pressed his muzzle against your neck. “Your kindness. Your willingness to listen. Your understanding. You are so precious to me. And I am so very, very broken. I can’t understand how you…how you can stand me.”

“The same way that you can stand me.” Was all you said back.

You sat like that, holding each other for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, the mood had gone from warm and happy to sad and nostalgic. But that was winter, wasn’t it? Changing all the time, switching from peaceful to overwhelming in the blink of an eye. Maybe that wasn’t just winter. Maybe that was just life in general.

His voice was so soft when he spoke again, a mere hoarse whisper. “The snow fell the day I met Des. It fell the day we parted. To see it now feels so bittersweet. I just want to know…why?”

“There’s no way to know.” You murmured back. “They could have wanted to protect you. They could have thought it was best for Monsters. For humans. For both. Selfishness or selflessness, there’s just no way to _really_ know. But I’m sure they loved you, Asgore Dreemurr. Just as Chara loved Asriel, like I’m sure they did. Just like how Frisk loves you. And…like how I love you, too.”

Maybe it was the vulnerability of the situation. The fact that you were holding one another so close, the shared warmth, the gentle way his claws were twisted in your hair. There was something so intimate that you just couldn’t place, that when he tilted his head up, you couldn’t help but lean down to meet his kiss. Your lips brushed gently at first, testing the waters. He was usually so awkward when it came to things like this. But it felt like there was something shared in this moment, that neither of you could back down now.

And you didn’t plan to.

Asgore didn’t pull back in the slightest when you leaned in again, planting a firmer, gentler kiss directly to his muzzle. His fangs scraped your chin, mouth widening to tilt your faces closer as you kissed again. And again. And again. Maybe it was the heat, the taste of the chocolate still lingering on your lips, or your desperation to chase away the chills that had his shoulders shaking. But he continued to cling to you, just as hard as you hung to him.

It felt like an eternity before you parted, both red-faced and flushed. You felt equal parts guilty for taking advantage of his emotional vulnerability, and hopeful that the affection had helped to quell his sorrows somehow. “Do you feel…better, now?”

He pressed his face to your shoulder, and you could feel the heat exuding from the edge of his paws all the way to the tip of his ears. “Yes, much. Thank you dearest, I believe your comfort…helped considerably.”

You sighed, gently. So, it was the latter, then. Thank goodness.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Stroking your fingers through the crown of blonde curls waterfalling down his back, you leaned your foreheads together. He smelled of cocoa, tea, and flowers. You felt so at peace, just like this. It was the most intimate moment you’d shared in…a long time. At the very least, he had warmed up considerably. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all—”

“Just this.” His voice was a whisper again, cradling the back of your head with his paw. “Just stay like this with me, for a little while longer.”

That, you could do. You were wrapped up together for stars knows how long, just holding each other. Warming each other. Being there for each other, until the trembling had long since faded and his breathing evened out. Only then did you lean back, giving him the space you knew he would need.

“Thank you.” You said, finally, after a moment. He blinked at you, the redness fading from his eyes as he scrubbed at them. Then, softly, he laughed.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you, dear?”

You shook your head. “For sharing your story with me. I’ve never heard much about your childhood, so to hear something—anything—about it. It’s the best present you could ever give me.”

Well. Your fingers tangled in the chain of the necklace, allowing the gem to dangle and shimmer between you both. “Not that I don’t appreciate _this_ , of course.”

“I certainly hope so!” He chuckled, gently letting you part from his embrace to take your place back in your seat. Even then, your fingers remained linked. “It cost quite a pretty penny—not that you’re not worth every bit, my darling.”

Ah, now it was your turn to blush. The warm, sweet words set a fire somewhere in your heart, and you couldn’t stop the giggles that escaped. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned at you, so genuinely that you swore you felt your heart skip a beat. “Ah, dearest, you should _snow_ me better than that, by now.”

Did he just…? Ohmygod. Your giggles turned to laughter, loud and genuine as you let your head hang back, both amused and mortified by the terrible pun. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sans and Toriel again.”

“Oh my!” He sounded just as entertained as you, even more playful. “Did I get your _goat_ there, dear?”

“You’re absolutely terrible.”

“Yes, but I am _your_ terror…ble. One.”

That had to be, single-handedly, the worst pun you’ve ever heard. Whatever time he’d been spending with Sans and Toriel had not been rubbing off on him in the _right_ way, apparently. “Just stick to your day job, Santa Claws.”

A shiver rocked over his spine as he stared back out at the frosting pane of the window. “I believe my work for today may have to take a pause until the snow settles back down.”

Yeah, he was right. While you were talking, you hadn’t even realized how heavily the snow had started to come down. There was no way he was going back out there tonight, not with the way things were looking. At the very least it was going to be a very cold, very white holiday season. And even if you hated the cold with a (no pun intended) “fiery” passion, you loved the aesthetic of winter. Especially right now more than anything.

The coziness of the house, contrasting the chill outside. The steam floating from your cups of cocoa. The intimacy of your hand in his. And then there was the stare he was giving you, warmer than any fireplace could ever be. All of that, combined with the feeling of the charm round your neck dangling from your fingers, had to make this the best “Gyftmas” you’d ever experienced, especially for it being your very first.

“Asgore,” you mumble after a moment.

His eyes didn’t leave you at all, a dreamy expression on his face as he simply mumbled a soft “Hm?” in response. The half-lidded look made your face burn, from the edge of your neck to the tips of your ears. It was just so cute. But then again, he just had that air about him, no matter what he did.

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand again, running a thumb over his knuckles affectionately. “For everything. Really. You’ve made today so, _so_ wonderful for me. And I know I don’t—I mean I’m not—”

“If you are going to say, ‘ _I am not worth-it_ ,’ do not.” His eyes steeled gently, and he grasped your palm in response, folding your fingers together. “You are worth every penny I spend, every moment of time I spend with you. I have said it before, and I will say it again. You are my everything. My light, my happiness. I…”

You watched him swallow, your own mouth dry and eyes bulging in sheer glorious disbelief.

“I love you.”

 _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,_ you repeated internally to yourself. Ohmygod, he’d said it. He’d said _it_. After all this time, after all the time you’d spent together, you’d finally heard what you’d been waiting to hear for…what felt like forever now. Relief, happiness, disbelief all simmered in your chest, warm and fuzzy. You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle and dissipate into a pile of happy bubbles at the same time.

“I…I love you too,” You choked back. You did. You really, really did.

And like that, your conversation was over. There was nothing more to be said on the subject, everything had come out into the open. The switch of the moods had your head reeling, but damn if they weren’t worth all the drama. Calmness, to excitement, to sorrow, to melancholy, to comfort, to adoration, to love itself. Now back to calmness. A circle, plain and simple, like a snowball. Or a snowflake (a pile of snowflakes, more like, but from your perspective it all looked the same).

When your cups were cleared you made sure to dump them in the dishwasher, trading the mugs of cocoa for the cookies you’d made earlier that day. They weren’t nearly as warm as they’d been after you’d pulled them out of the oven, but then again, it’d been quite a bit since then. Little ornament, tree, & gift-shaped sweets, coated in everything from powdered sugar to plain sprinkles. You even made sure to grab a couple of tea-based recipes, something you knew Asgore would adore.

His eyes lit up when he spotted the tray, clapping his paws together with a squeak of pleasured surprise. “How wonderful! Nothing goes better with cocoa than cookies!”

You grinned. “Especially for Santa, right?”

He already had one of the tree-shaped cookies halfway in his mouth when he started to laugh. Which led to the choking. Then even more laughter. You hurried to grab him a cup of warm tea (something you’d had sitting by while you enjoyed the sugary stuff first), to help the lump in his throat go down. Between giggles, you grabbed a tiny, snowman-shaped sweet of your own. You weren’t thirsty enough for tea this time around, but cookies? Oh, you could go for those any day of the week.

You patted his back as he choked down his bite, trying to stifle your own laughter as he gulped down the rest of his tea and took a huge breath. “Oh…yes! Es-p-pecially, for Santa!”

His sputters finally broke you, and you doubled over, clutching your stomach. “Asgore Dreemurr, you are the best present I have gotten for any Gyftmas, ever.”

“But dearest!” He joked back, “This is your _first_ Gyftmas!”

“I know.” You leaned over and kissed him again, a gentle peck on the cheek. Still, it was enough to make him flush, as it always did. He didn’t make a move to push you away afterwards, only to hold you closer as he turned the empty teacup in his hands. His proud smile had melted into a tiny grin, so excited and flustered that you could see his fangs poking out over his bottom lip. “But you are now, and always will be, my favorite present.”

“Ah.” His little grin just made your smile widen. “As are you, my dearest.”

You grabbed another cookie. The calm settled back down over you both, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

Best Gyftmas ever.

* * *

 ❤ ❤ ❤

* * *

 


End file.
